Pretty Girls Die First
by SisterTenenbaum
Summary: The only good thing that Brooke can think of about this whole cancer deal is that it's the perfect way to make everyone who ever screwed her over nice and sorry. Complete.
1. I Never Said That I Was Brave

Title: Pretty Girls Die First

Rating: PG-13

Summary: "The only good thing that Brooke can think of about this whole cancer deal is that it's the perfect way to make everyone who ever screwed her over nice and sorry." This story takes place within the universe in which the show is currently taking place. It is based on some possible foilers I read about a new storyline in the works for Brooke. That's all I'm saying.

* * *

Brooke picks up the phone, and then quickly slams it back down. 

She looks up, and seeing her reflection in the glass of the vanity across her room, picks up the phone and hurls it into the mirror.

A million little fragments reflect the small, satisfied smile on her face.

She decides to try something else.

She folds her fingers into the standard signal for "call me", and holds them up to her ear.

"Yeah, Mom?" The words sound so loud in the absolute silence of Rachel's huge, empty house. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm probably not going to need allowance any more in about three to eight months. What? No, I haven't got a job. Are you crazy? I'm dying. Okay, well, sorry to disappoint. Talk to you next month, kay? Okay, much love. Bye!"

She taps her fingers together as a little frown puckers her brow.

"Let's see, let's see" she whispers to herself. "Who to punish next? Lucas? Mmmm… no, let's save the best for last. Oh, I know!"

The only good thing that Brooke can think of about this whole cancer deal is that it's the perfect way to make everyone who ever screwed her over nice and sorry.

She holds the imaginary phone up to her ear once again.

"Hi bitch!" she crows cheerfully. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm dying. Yep, you heard right. I'm dying; checking out; on the last leg of my journey; heading towards the great unknown. Yeah, you better believe that I'll be mentioning your name to God, or Jesus, or whoever. And trust me, it won't be nice. You're going straight to hell, Peyton Sawyer! Maybe I'll see you later, if that whole haunting you and making your remaining years as horrible as possible thing that I'm planning works out."

She smiles a little as she pretends to click the phone closed.

Walking over to the destruction that used to be her vanity, she picks up a large chunk of glass and looks at her reflection. She lifts a long piece of hair and tugs on it a little. It stays firmly planted.

"Not for long" she crows to herself, throwing the piece of glass back down on the floor.

Brooke has always loved her hair, but today, something's different. Looking at it, just knowing that it's going to all be gone soon, makes her so angry she could scream.

Instead of screaming, she cuts.

No, not herself. She's not a freaky screamo loser. That's Peyton.

She cuts her hair. Picking up the jagged chunk of glass, she draws it recklessly through her long locks. When she's finished, her hair is a mess of layers that lay haphazardly just an inch or so above her shoulders.

"So there" she says. "I don't even care. You can take my hair. You can take my hair, and my body, and anything else you want. Nothing matters anymore anyway."

Only, it's a little sad, since Haley said that she could be the Godmother of Baby Naley... and a little sad, because her clothing line is getting better every day... and also a little sad, because she really never meant to stay broken up with Peyton forever. She just wanted to make her feel the way she had made Brooke feel so many times... like she didn't matter.

But it's too late to forgive her now, and too close to the end of things. It wouldn't be doing Peyton a kindness to forgive her at this point. It would just make her sad when she found out that Brooke would be dying soon. It would just go to show that her stupid freaking motto "people always leave" is actually true after all.

"Oh, cheer up, blondie" Brooke huffs to her imaginary friend. "My boyfriend sure never left you, even while he was dating me!"

That brings Brooke to an even more interesting topic. Lucas.

She almost feels a little guilty when she thinks of how he's going to react to her news, but quickly stiffens her resolve not to care. After all, he's the jerk that kissed Peyton... and no, not just once, he went for twice!

She thinks that she might be awed by his balls in doing that, if only she didn't want to cut them off so badly.

Oh well... seeing his face when he finds out that she's a goner will probably have the same effect. But will he find out? To tell him or not to tell him? That is the question. Whether it is more... nice? No, that's not it. Knightly? Anyway, whatever… she just doesn't know whether to tell him or not.

"I mean..." She's really getting into this talking to herself thing lately. "If I don't tell him, and I just stop showing up at places one day, it will seem kind of cheap and like I was too afraid. But if I do tell him, then I'll have to spend my remaining days trying to ignore his ridiculous attempts at heroics. I can't really ask that of myself, now can I?"

"He's not ridiculous. You are."

Another voice is added to the mix.

"Hey Hales" sighs Brooke, looking up at her frowning friend.

Haley surveys the room from her place in the doorway, her eyes taking in the shattered glass, the blood on Brooke's bare knees, her new "haircut".

"Brooke" she says, walking over to her and pulling her up into a hug. "Look at what you're doing to yourself. You're ridiculous."

"No, I'm dying" she says.

"But maybe not!" Haley insists. "I mean, it's not like a done deal. I was there too. We both heard the doctor say that the treatment could work."

"He said there was a twenty percent chance that the treatment could prolong my life, and a five percent chance that I could go into full remission. Now, I don't know about you, but those odds just don't give me a ton of hope. He might as well have said that there's a ninety-five percent chance I'm dead meat."

"Just... God, Brooke, would you just stop saying things like that? And also, about the Lucas situation..."

"I know what you're going to say. I need to tell him."

"Well, way to steal my thunder, but yes, that's what I was going to say." Haley's face is drooping in a way that makes Brooke so uncomfortable.

"Yes, fine, but how? That's the real question. I mean, there are so many ways. There's email, for one, that's a good option. Or maybe telegram? A little outdated, but you know how Lucas loves old stuff. I myself will never understand it, but you know what I always say. To each his own..."

"Okay, first of all" Haley cuts in. "You never say that. You're more of a "my way or the highway" type of lady. Second, you have to tell him face to face. Any other way would be insensitive."

"Insensitive?" Brooke shrieks, finally losing it. "Insensitive? How about when Lucas kissed my best friend? How about when Keith died and Lucas refused to talk to me about it like I was just some stranger off the street? How about two years ago when I told him I was pregnant and he said "it's not like I'm the only guy you ever slept with"? That's insensitive, Haley. This is not insensitive. This is my life. Or rather, my lack thereof."

"Brooke, I understand that Lucas has hurt you, and I hate him for it. What I want you to understand, however, is that the way you treat Lucas is your choice; nobody else's. And it has nothing to do with what he's done to you, or what Peyton's done to you, or what your parents have failed to do for you."

Brooke allows Haley to lead her over to her bed and tuck her in under the covers.

"Haley, you're so good to me" Brooke yawns, burrowing under the blankets.

"Someone's got to be" replies Haley as she starts to slowly and carefully pick up the pieces of Brooke's earlier outburst.

"That's what I'm saying" Brooke responds with a smile. "I love you, Haley."

"I love you too, Brooke. Now go to sleep. You've got a big day ahead of you."

"Thanks, Mother Goose. Aren't you going to sing me a bedtime story?"

"You always have to ruin a moment, don't you?"

"Yes."

"That's what I thought. Now shut up."

"But really… thanks."

"Always."


	2. We Know Who Our Enemies Are

"Please take your seats, class. The test will begin as soon as the bell rings."

Brooke briefly considers raising her hand and saying, "hey, can I sit this one out due to my cancer and all?", but then decides against it. She wants pity, of course, but not at the expense of looking pathetic. She'd like to maintain some semblance of dignity through this rather embarrassing experience.

She pulls a pencil out of her sparkly, pink case and taps it against her desk impatiently.

"Hey, do you think you could please stop that?"

The voice grates on her nerves.

"Do you think that you could please stop macking on my boyfriend at every opportunity?" she shoots back, spinning around to glare at the offending person.

Peyton rolls her eyes.

"No? Then no, I don't think I'm going to be able to stop tapping anytime soon. It soothes me."

"And by the way, Brooke," Peyton spits out. "He's not your boyfriend anymore."

"Yes, you made good and sure of that, didn't you, you little Jezebel?"

"Whoa, is that a historical reference? Have you been, like, reading, or, like, what?" Peyton does her best valley girl imitation.

Brooke quickly scans her mind for a retort. She comes up with nothing, but she knows she can't give up now. She's about to say something along the lines of "just shut your trap, you stupid whore", when she is stopped by a sigh.

Just a simple sigh.

"What?" both girls bark at the same time, snapping their heads to the right to stare at Lucas.

"Nothing," he says meekly, staring down at his desk.

"Good," says Brooke, facing foreword again.

"It's just..."

"God, Lucas, don't you ever stop?" Brooke asks tiredly. She doesn't look at him because she can't right now. "Just stop."

"You know, maybe I don't want to," he says in a slightly high-pitched tone. She can tell he's getting agitated. "Maybe I just want you to listen to me for once without assuming that you know what I'm going to say."

"You know what happens when you assu..."

"Shut your trap, you stupid whore," they both snap at the same time.

Okay, so maybe they don't both say the "stupid whore" part. And maybe Lucas's "not now, Peyt" is accompanied by that freaky, constipated smile he reserves only for her, but Brooke still feels a small sense of accomplishment when he chooses talking to her over Peyton.

"Miss Davis!" The teacher's shrill voice breaks through the daydreams of Peyton as her personal scullery maid that are currently floating through Brooke's head. "I will not tolerate language like that in my classroom. That's another detention for you, right after school today."

Peyton looks smug. Lucas looks panicked.

"I hate you," Brooke snarls in their general directions.

"Brooke, just listen," Lucas whispers desperately.

"No!" she replies instantly.

Lucas looks around wildly for a minute, before standing up.

He speaks so softly at first that she hardly hears what he says.

"What did you say, Mr. Scott?" asks the teacher. "And why are you out of your desk?"

"I said, 'fuck'" Lucas repeats ever so slightly louder.

"What?"

"'Fuck', I said 'fuck'," Lucas repeats. "Fuck."

"Well... I suppose... I suppose that's a detention for you, too, Mr. Scott."

Brooke snickers a little at the pained look on the teacher's face. She knows how it must hurt her to have to punish her favorite little suck-up.

Brooke decides that this is a good time.

"Mrs. Bell?" she says loudly, shooting her hand into the air. "I forgot, I have a doctor's appointment starting in about twenty minutes that's probably going to go right through the end of day and make me miss my detention. Lady problems, I'm sure you know how that goes. Can I make it up tomorrow?"

"Yes, that would be alright," says Mrs. Bell.

"Okay, I had better be going then," says Brooke as she stands and gathers her things.

She feels someone poke her arm, and jumps a little. Things like that hurt a little more than they should lately.

"What?" she hisses.

"Why are you going to the doctor? Is something wrong?"

His concern makes her want to hit him.

"Nothing that you can save me from," she responds before grabbing her bag and stomping out of the room.

Brooke feels so angry that she thinks she might burst as she walks to her car. In a way, she almost hopes that she does. This whole death thing is going to happen no matter what, so it might as well get itself over with. And besides, she's stopped right by Peyton's car.

"That will teach you, Peyton," she says quietly, facing the prized vehicle and spreading her arms. "Prance out of school to find your car covered with my cancer guts!"

"Brooke, what are you doing?"

She toys with claiming insanity for a brief instance before the owner of the voice registers. She groans and turns around.

"What, Lucas? What could you possible want?"

"I just wanted to see if you were okay," he says. "You seemed a little upset."

"I seemed a little upset?" she asks dryly. "I'm sorry, you're right. I have no right to be a little upset. I mean, sure, the supposed love of my life has repeatedly cheated on me, my supposed best friend contributed to said cheating, my supposed new best friend told the whole school I was pregnant, and my supposed new boyfriend also cheated on me. You're right, I mean, I'm a real piece of work. I should probably be locked up."

"Brooke, I wasn't trying to say that you don't have the right to be upset..."

"Oh, and there is one other little thing I need to tell you," she says. There's a little voice that sounds suspiciously like a TutorMom telling her to stop, but there's another, angrier voice out screaming it. "One of the main reasons that I'm just "a little bit upset" is because I just found out I was accepted to UNC and..."

"You were?" he breaks in excitedly. "Me too! That's great, Brooke. I'm so proud of you. It will be great going to the same school, don't you think?"

She feels her anger dying away, being slowly replaced by a hopeless feeling. She thinks she probably preferred the anger.

"Yeah, Luke." she finally says carefully. Maybe this isn't the perfect time, or even a good time, but it's easier to just do it. It's like ripping a Band-Aid. It's better if you just do it quick. "The only thing is... I don't think I'm probably going to be able to go."

"Why not, Brooke? If you're worried about the school part, I thought we already had this worked out? I'll tutor you in academics, and you'll tutor me in, to quote you, the "find art of partying"."

He laughs a little at the memory.

She feels sick as the thought strikes her that, pretty soon, that's all she'll be. Someone's tired, old memory. Lucas's tired, old memory.

"It's something else, Luke. It's just... I don't think I'm probably going to be around when the time comes."

"Are your parents trying to get you to move again? Maybe my mom could..."

"Lucas, I need you to listen to me," she says slowly, reaching out and holding his face in her hands. She's forcing him to look at her, and she can tell it's making him scared.

"Why are you being nice to me?" he asks all of the sudden. The panic and knowledge crossing his features are so uncharacteristic of him that she's a bit taken aback. He's supposed to be the level-headed one. "I want you to stop. You're mad at me, remember? You're mad at me, so why are you being nice?"

"Lucas," she repeats. He's about to bolt, she can tell, but she has to get this out. If she doesn't do it now, she never will. "I'm sorry. I don't want to tell you this. God, I don't want to tell anyone this, but I have to."

"I don't want you to tell me," he whispers, shaking his head in her hands. She sees a tear roll down his cheek, and something inside of her breaks a little.

"I have to," she says, more to herself than to him.

"Luke, I'm dying."

"Okay" he says quickly, pulling himself out of her grasp. He begins to walk briskly in circles around her. This is more the Lucas she knows and loves. Well, she used to love him. Well, she doesn't really know anymore, but that's no surprise. She's never been a genius.

She looks up when she realizes he's still talking.

"Okay, okay, we can deal with this, Brooke. I mean, whatever it is, we'll fix it. We'll just fix it right up."

"It's cancer," she presses ahead with the speech that she had thought up sometime in the wee hours of the previous night. "It's cancer, and it's almost guaranteed to be fatal."

"No, no," he says. "That's not right. We have ways of treating cancer, I know about them. I mean, there's chemo, for one, and there are transplants, you know, things like that... Do you need a transplant?"

Brooke can see him latching on to this idea, and tries to speak, but he ignores her attempts.

"Because if you do, I can do that for you, Brooke. I can do that. I can give you a kidney, or a lung, or whatever you need, and I can save you, and then we can go to UNC. Hey, maybe we could room together? I mean, I would totally give you your space and everything. We could get a two-bedroom in Chapel Hill, and..."

Brooke sits down on the curb, wrapping her arms around her body as she listens to him babble. She hears him talking about paint colors, and about rent costs, and part-time jobs, and yet, all she can think is "he doesn't get it".

He thinks he can save her, but it's too late for that. And anyway, this isn't exactly what she had in mind when she said. She had just wanted him to notice her, instead of Peyton. She hadn't wanted something like. She never would.

"Lucas, you have detention," she reminds him as students begin to pour out of the building.

"Oh, right," he says, swallowing soundlessly.

She's sure that he had meant for them to be having a heart-to-heart in a deserted classroom right now. She wonders idly if this was his imagined topic.

He's running his hands through his hair. She wishes he would just calm down.

"Just calm down."

"How can I?"

"Look, Lucas," she tries to joke. "I know you've never had a detention before, but..."

"Stop!" he says, looking more agitated than ever. "Stop acting like this is nothing. When did your life start meaning so little to you?"

She looks at him.

"Probably around the same time it started meaning so little to you."

She doesn't even have the desire to flip her hair as she turns and walks away. All of her spark just seems to be dying out lately.

A lot of things seem to be dying out lately.


	3. Be Still, Child

The first thing Karen thinks when she hears the retching coming from upstairs is, "oh God, not again!"

She takes the steps two at a time, arriving at the bathroom door just in time to see Brooke's body convulse and then watch her heave into the bathtub.

"Brooke, honey, you know that you're really supposed to do that into the toilet, right?" she asks. She's a little too upset with the fact that her son's girlfriend has once _again_ possibly gotten knocked up to feel much sympathy. She's still a mom, though, so she accompanies these words by rubbing circles on Brooke's tense back.

"I never really understood why people did that," Brooke's voice is shaky as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I mean, who wants to stick their head in the same place where they..."

"I get the picture" Karen agrees quickly. "Now, as stimulating as this conversation has been so far, I'd like to know what the hell is going on!"

Brooke looks at her blankly.

"Lucas hasn't left his room in a week, I haven't seen you around the house, Haley's been all droopy... I guess what I'm getting at is... are you pregnant?"

Brooke's eyes widen, and then she begins to laugh.

"I wish."

"Excuse me?" asks Karen quickly.

"Well, I don't really wish, I guess." Brooke seems momentarily perplexed by this question. "I mean, the last thing I want is a little screaming brat constantly on my hip. Oh, no offense, Karen."

"None taken." Karen is much too relieved that Brooke is apparently not pregnant after all to take offense at anything.

"But then again, at least I'd still have a hip," she continues.

"Brooke, what are you talking about? Are you having hip replacement surgery?" Karen laughs a bit at what she considers to be a decent joke on her part.

"Please, I'm not a jillion years old," Brooke laughs. Karen joins in, her relief fueling her mirth. "I mean, can you imagine me rolling around in a wheelchair, whacking things with my walking stick?"

"Actually, I sort of can!" Karen giggles. "Well, more the whacking things part than the wheel chair."

"I have cancer."

Laughter dies.

"So I guess that wheelchair joke was probably in bad taste, huh?" Brooke smiles at Karen weakly, and then leans back over the side of the bathtub and heaves again.

Mechanically, Karen reaches over and pulls Brooke's choppy locks into her hand, resting her other hand on Brooke's hot forehead.

"Do your parents know?" she says, once the retching ends.

"Yes," Brooke answers. "They said that they're sure it will all turn out fine. My mother has a lot of faith in modern medicine, due to the lift on her ass and all. I tried to tell her that my doctor begs to differ, but she couldn't hear me over the Mexican Fiesta taking place in the background."

"You can't stay here all alone," Karen says.

Brooke sighs.

"I have Rachel."

Karen looks at her.

"Okay, I know, but I can't live with you, Karen."

"Why not?"

"Lucas," says Brooke after a moment. "It would be too hard. It wouldn't be fair to him."

"Brooke, I'm worried about him," Karen admits. "I haven't ever seen him like this before. Not even when Keith..."

"He'll get over it," says Brooke confidently after a moment. "I'm sure that his new BFF Peyton will be a great consolation to him after I'm dead and buried."

"Brooke, he cares about you so much..."

"Don't say that to me, Karen," Brooke cuts her off. "If he really cared about me, he would have shown it before. He only thinks he cares now because he knows he's going to lose me. He never wants me when he has me. So I guess if that means he's going to spend the rest of his life wanting me, then that's fine with me. At least he'll know how I feel."

"I know that you don't mean that, sweetie," Karen pulls Brooke to her lap, cradling her frame in her arms.

"I do," insists Brooke, and suddenly she's crying so hard that she can hardly speak. "I do! I want him to feel it. I want him to miss me."

Karen hums softly as she rocks the crying girl back and forth on the bathroom floor.

"I just wanted him to want me," Brooke's words are broken with sobs, "as much as I wanted him! But now it's too late. It's not supposed to be too late! I'm supposed to have time to make him love me."

"He does, Brooke," Karen says.

"I don't think he loved me when he kissed Peyton," Brooke sobs.

Karen is taken aback for a moment, but then speaks softly.

"I think he did."


	4. The Cure For Pain

Nathan looks from Haley to Brooke, and then back to Haley. They're sitting side by side on the sofa, staring back at him. Haley looks scared, and Brooke looks sheepish. He understands why Haley looks the way she does.

"Is this a joke?" he asks.

It's not as if he's ever been particularly close to Brooke, or even really considered her as anything more than a casual party buddy, but still... no one should die before the age of nineteen. Especially not anybody he knows.

"I'm afraid not," Brooke replies with a somewhat flip manner.

"So that's why Lucas hasn't left his room in three days," is the only thing Nathan can think to say.

"God, first Karen, and now you. I wish people would stop blaming me for that!" Brooke exclaims. "He's a brooder. It's just what he does."

"You talked to Karen?" asks Haley with a look of surprise.

"Yeah," Brooke sighs. "She came over to Rachel's to confront me yesterday because she thought I was pregnant..."

"I wish," Haley cuts in.

"That's exactly what I said," Brooke replies. "And anyway, she found me vomiting, accusations were made, I told her the truth, she insisted I move in with her, and I said 'no'. End of story."

_Then I cried into her shoulder about how the boy I love doesn't want me back and she held my hair while I vomited some more and then I sent her home with an even bigger burden on her back than she came with_, Brooke continues mentally, but she doesn't tell Nathan and Haley that part.

"Why won't you live with her?" Nathan asks.

"Well, there are many reasons. Number one, it's not Karen's responsibility to take care of me. And, more obviously, because living with Karen would equal living with Lucas and that would just give him far too much satisfaction. I'm not going to let myself become just another one the girls he rescues. I'm not going to pass for Peyton. I mean, my clothes are just far too expensive. No one would buy it."

"Don't be so stupid, Brooke."

Haley and Brooke both stare at him.

"Don't make jokes about this like it doesn't matter," he says forcefully. "Don't play the martyr who cares more about not being a burden than their own life. We all know that isn't you. You're probably one of the most selfish bitches I know, and I know a lot of selfish bitches."

"Don't you talk to me about this like you have any idea!" Brooke says. "You don't know me. You've never known me, and you have no right to tell me why I do what I do."

"I'm pretty sure I know enough about you to know that you aren't the type of person to just roll over and die because it seems easier. You value yourself way too much to do that!"

Brooke just looks at him.

"So why don't you just stop being a victim, and start being honest. You aren't okay with dying, and you don't care about being someone else's responsibility. You're just being stubborn. Your petty revenge is more important to you than the people you love."

"I don't love Lucas!" Brooke shouts. "How many times do I have to say that? I hate him!"

"Okay, fine," says Nathan, his voice rising. "You hate Lucas. You don't care if you die with him knowing you never forgave him. I get that. What about Peyton, Brooke? Are you really so pissed and bitter that you want her to have to live with that forever?"

"Yes!" says Brooke defiantly.

"Well then what about Mouth?" Nathan asks, and his voice is softer. "And what about Rachel, and Bevin? What about all of the people who you care about?"

"What about Haley?"

Brooke looks over at her friend, who was been silently observing their exchange with tear-filled eyes.

"I don't know what you want from me, Nate," she says finally. Her voice rings of defeat. "I'm taking the chemo. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to."

"I want you to fight it, Brooke," he says. "I want you to do more than go through the motions. I want you to be the selfish bitch I always thought you were. I know that you hate Peyton and Lucas, and I know that you want your revenge, but dying isn't the way to get it. Living is."

"What if it's too hard?" Brooke asks after a moment. Her eyes have filled with tears, and she brushes them away furiously with her fists.

"I'll help you," Haley speaks for the first time in a while, scooting over by Brooke and throwing her arms around her. "There's so much more to you than who your boyfriend is, Brooke. It can't define you. You can let boyfriends and high school drama be the end all."

"I know," says Brooke. "But I wanted him to be that. I wanted him to be the end all."

"Well, it would seem that he wasn't," Nathan says sardonically.

"Listen, Mr. Tough Love," starts Brooke. Her sniffle is now accompanied by a bit of spark.

"I think he sucks too, if that helps," Nathan says. It feels like a peace offering.

Brooke accepts it.

"Me too," says Haley, with a sniffle of her own. "And I say we fuck him!"

Brooke and Nathan both look at Haley in surprise.

Nathan slowly breaks into a grin.

"Yeah, fuck him!" he agrees. "And fuck Peyton too."

"And fuck that fucking doctor," Brooke adds enthusiastically. "He doesn't get to decide my future. I do."

In the back of Nathan's mind, he knows that Lucas is still his brother, and he's still Haley's childhood best friend, and both of them still have more history with him than they'll ever have with Brooke, and that neither of them will never really write him off. He knows Brooke will never really be able to either. But for now, Brooke and Haley are smiling, and there's a feeling of hope in the air, so he smiles with them.

"But you're still gonna have to take the treatment," he reminds Brooke after a moment. "And you're still not going to be able to take care of yourself for awhile, so how about you move in here and me and Haley can do it?"

Haley smiles at him then, in a way that makes him know everything is going to be okay with them forever.

Brooke just looks stunned.

She opens her mouth to speak.

"If you say anything remotely close to "I don't want to intrude", or mention the word "burden", I'll be forced to launch into the selfish bitch speech again," Nathan warns. "And I don't think any of us really wants that."

So she closes her mouth.

* * *

Peyton approaches Haley at her locker, smiling shyly.

"Are you talking to me?" she asks.

"Yes," sighs Haley, not sounding thrilled at the prospect. "But if Brooke ever asks, no, I'm not. Team Brooke all the way!" She pretends to wave a little banner above her head.

"Well, I think that Brooke asking would require Brooke starting a conversation with me," says Peyton dryly as she falls into step with Haley and they make their way towards class.

"So you sound a little down," says Haley, wanting to change the subject. "How are things with Lucas? Loverland not as appealing as you thought?" The sarcasm in her voice is so reminiscent of Brooke that Peyton feels a little pang.

"He doesn't love me," Peyton says dully. "He doesn't know what he wants."

"Well, I think he wants Brooke," says Haley defiantly.

"I don't," replies Peyton. "He doesn't really want either of us. He only wants what he can't have."

With those words, she strolls away, leaving Haley by herself in the middle of the hallway.


	5. My Exit, Unfair

Brooke runs a brush carefully through her hair. One stroke, two strokes, three...

By the time she gets to thirty two, she's crying so hard that she can hardly hold up the brush.

By the time she gets to sixty five, her tears have ceased and she's staring in the mirror with a set jaw.

By the time she gets to a hundred, Rachel's vanity is covered in dark hair. Her head hasn't fared so well.

Steeling herself, she looks up into the mirror. The image that greets her is so revolting that she has to fight the urge to once again shatter the offending object. She doesn't do it, partly because she knows it's pointless, but mostly because she doesn't feel like she has the strength to.

It's almost time for her to make the laborious, three mile car ride to Nathan and Haley's, and she knows that she needs to reserve her energy. They're probably almost back from taking the last load over there, she thinks, and cringes a bit. She hates that she's sitting here in someone else's room, doing nothing, while her friends waste their Saturday moving her into another person's room which won't ever be hers anyway.

She won't express these thoughts, though; not when she knows how it would hurt them. She knows from Nathan that Haley has been obsessing over their living room ever since Brooke agreed to move in with them, arranging and rearranging the furniture practically every hour in the hopes of finding a design that will make Brooke most comfortable. Brooke has the feeling that Haley has some secret, hidden notion that maybe, just maybe, if Brooke's bed is at the perfect angle, both in view of the TV, and close to the bathroom, everything will be okay. Maybe, if the potted plants Haley has artfully arranged around room, bloom at the correct time and fill the air with a flowery scent, there won't be any such thing as cancer or death. These thoughts make Brooke want to both shake and hug Haley at the same time.

She knows that moving to Nathan and Haley's isn't going to do anything except force her friends to watch her die up close, but she can't argue with them. She's too tired. She's too tired to do anything she wants to anymore, and she would be angry about that, if only she wasn't too exhausted for anger at the moment.

But there's one last thing she needs to do before she goes. God knows that once she's an official resident of Naley-land, she won't have a second to herself. Haley hardly lets her out of her sight as it is, and they don't even live together.

Standing slowly, Brooke begins to strip herself. She pulls off her tee shirt first, taking in the ribs beginning to poke through the flesh there. Then she pulls down her loose skirt, letting it pool at her feet before stepping out of it. Finally, she removes her undergarments, tenderly folding the beautiful, black lace panties and bra.

Brooke has always had the best lingerie; the most gorgeous and expensive silk stockings, and the flimsiest nightgowns; the most scandalous garter belts, and the laciest bras. For most girls, getting their first thong is memorable: For Brooke, it marked the beginning of an era. Brooke still remembers Peyton's face when she had held it up and waved it in front of her eyes.

"_Can you believe it? I'm finally a woman!"_

"_Brooke, we're only eleven. And besides, that thing is nasty. Don't you think it will be like a constant wedgie?"_

"_Oh puh-lease, Peyton. You're such a child, you couldn't possible understand."_

And Peyton never has understood, really.

For Brooke, being too sexy for her age isn't just something she does for fun. It's what she is. It's all she is.

Looking in the mirror, however, she doubts anyone would call her sexy anymore. She's loosing weight so rapidly that her skin looks sort of loose, like it's just slightly too big for her body. She hasn't been tanning in a month, so her coloring is getting paler by the day. Her breasts, if you could even call them that anymore, have shrunk so that she looks like a prepubescent child. And now, with her sparsely haired head, she looks… she looks like an old man.

It's true. She's pale, she's skinny, she's balding, and she's constantly hunched over with aching muscles. She really does look like an old man!

This realization strikes her as so funny that she begins to laugh.

* * *

Lucas stands at the bottom of the stairs, scratching the back of his neck. He always finds himself doing this when he's unsure.

He had been pretty shocked when he had received a call from Nathan asking him to help him move Brooke's stuff over to their place, but he isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The gift, of course, is seeing Brooke, not listening to Nathan grunt his way through a bed, a dresser, a vanity, and an easy chair. So far, though, all he's gotten is sweaty as Nathan already had all of the furniture downstairs when he had arrived, and had merely glared at him in response to Lucas' simple question of, "where's Brooke?"

Still, he had felt grateful towards Nathan for giving him the opportunity. He hadn't seen Brooke in school since that fateful day in the parking lot, and she was seemingly ignoring all his calls. When he had expressed this gratitude, however, Nathan had promptly dropped his end of the dresser. Lucas had yelped at the sudden weight, and inadvertently let go of his end also, causing it to land on his toes. Cursing, he had stared at Nathan.

_"What's your problem, man?"_

_"You're a dick, and the only reason I asked you here today is because Skills, Fergie, Junk, Tim, and Mouth were all busy."_

_"You asked Mouth before you asked me? You know he almost died last time he tried to help Brooke move."_

_"Yeah, well, at least he's reliable."_

_"What's that supposed to mean? I'm reliable."_

_"You know what? You're right. You can always be relied upon to be a dick and fuck everything up, and then cry about it later like a little girl and expect sympathy. You're probably the most reliable guy I know."_

_"You have no idea what you're talking about! And by the way, you're not exactly Mr. Morality!"_

_The brothers face each other._

_"Maybe I have made mistakes!" shouts Nathan. "I'm not denying that. But at least I own up to them. You mope around like some sad puppy that's been kicked in the face."_

_"If you're talking about the Brooke and Peyton situation..."_

_"I'm not! Well, not just that. I'm talking about everything, Luke. I'm talking about the way that you do whatever you want, hurting whoever gets in the way, and then still seem to think you have the right to hand out advice on every street corner. I'm talking about the way that you stick your nose in where it doesn't belong and look down on everyone else like you're Jesus freaking Christ. No one needs your sermons, Luke, except maybe you."_

"_I don't even know what you're talking about!"_

"_Haley told me about how you laid that Chris Keller shit at her feet again when she confronted you about cheating on Brooke with Peyton."_

"_I didn't cheat on Brooke with Peyton. It wasn't even like that!"_

"_You're missing my point, man," says Nathan. "It's not about them. It's about you."_

With those words, Nathan had sighed and picked up the dresser again.

Scowling, Lucas had followed suit.

Now, Lucas tries to brush those thoughts from his mind. He's about to see Brooke for the first time since she told him, and he needs to get this right.

Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he starts up the stairs.

Halfway up, he hears a noise coming from what he assumes must be Brooke and Rachel's bedroom. It sounds like laughter. It sounds like Brooke's laughter.

Gathering some courage from this, he quickly makes his way up the rest of the stairs.

He enters the room with a smile.

The smile fades.

Her back is to him, but the fact she is completely nude registers with him immediately.

"Oh, God, Brooke," he says, quickly turning away. "I'm sorry, I should have knocked."

"It's really no problem, Lucas. Go ahead, look at me." She's giggling.

His back remains to her.

"Look at me."

Her laughter is dying away.

He still refuses to turn around.

"Goddamnit, Lucas! Look at me!" she screams.

Shocked into submission by the desperation in her voice, he obeys.

She's facing him now, and her naked body is different than he remembers. She's emaciated, with bruises on her bony knees. And her hair… he's always loved her hair. He remembers lying in bed beside her, drawing the strands over his face and rubbing them between his fingers.

"Alright, now say it!" she says, her voice still loud. "Say that I'm disgusting."

"Brooke, you're not…"

"I mean, we all know that I'm not good enough for you to love," she continues as if he hadn't spoken. "But now… now, I'm not even good enough for you to fuck, am I?"

"You are," he says, swallowing. "Good enough to love, I mean. I do love you."

"Oh, so now I'm suddenly worth your love," she spits out. "Great. Well, maybe I don't care about that anymore. You know, I always wanted to prove that there was something more to me than looks and style. I wanted to be seen as someone with substance."

"You are, Brooke. You're amazing…"

"But I just want..." She's about to burst into tears, and they both know it.

She turns to face the mirror again, and the floodgates open.

"I just want to be pretty!" she wails. "And I don't care how shallow, or petty, or stupid it is. I don't care if it makes me seem like a child, because I feel like a child! I want to be pretty again."

"You're still pretty," Lucas tries, stepping up and touching her gingerly on the shoulder.

"No, I'm not!" she screams, and her sadness seems to turn to anger again. "I'm disgusting, and I'll never be pretty again!"

She whirls around, and storms over to Rachel's bed. With a gesture that he guesses costs her much, she upends one of the boxes lying there. Piles of satiny fabric fall out first, and Lucas recognizes the blue color instantly.

_Is this beach taken?_

She lifts the dress, balling the material up in her fingers.

"Why did you want to talk to me that night?" she asks him, her eyes full of sadness and rage. "It was because of how I looked, wasn't it? Why did you date me in the first place? Because you thought I was hot. Why did you agree to be non-exclusive with me if you love me so much? Because you couldn't turn down a free hookup! I hate you! I hate everything about you, and now you can hate me too! There's nothing left for you to like."

She throws the dress to the floor, and her body quickly follows, crumbling.

Lucas sits down too, and is shocked when she allows him to take her trembling, naked form into his arms.

"Brooke, Brooke," he breathes, rocking her softly back and forth. "I know that you want me to hate you, but I just can't."

"Why not?" she sniffles, her voice barely a whisper. "I've been horrible to you."

"Not as horrible as I've been to you," he responds.

"Well, no," she says honestly.

He can't help but chuckle.

They sit in silence until Brooke's breathing becomes less ragged and the lingerings of sobs stop shaking her body.

"Can we be friends again?" he asks after a moment, holding his breath.

"Why the hell not?" she says dryly. "It's not as if it's really a long-term commitment."

"You can't say things like that," he says.

"You sound like Haley."

"She's a smart woman."

"Lucas?" asks Brooke, looking up at him from her position in his lap.

"Yes?" he asks.

"I said we could be friends, and I meant it, but I need you to know something. I'm not forgiving you because I want to, or because I'm not mad anymore. I'm just doing it because I'm tired."

"I understand," he says after a moment. Her words tear at his stomach, but he knows that this isn't the time to challenge them. He keeps hearing Nathan's words from earlier, and he feels like maybe he does understand.

"I'm sorry for the way that I acted, though. I'm such a baby."

"It's okay to be mad about it, Brooke. It really isn't fair that this is happening to you."

"Fair isn't really the way that things work for me," she says after a moment. "I mean, if the powers that be really distributed punishment were it was due, Peyton would be a whole lot more balding than me. Now help me get dressed. This isn't exactly the outfit I had planned for my big moving day."


	6. Torches Together

Peyton loves Brooke. She really, truly does. Sometimes, though, it's too hard to love more than one thing, and you have to choose. What's hard to swallow is the thought that perhaps she made the wrong choice.

That thought is why she's here, yet again, fist poised. She hasn't knocked yet, and she's not quite sure why. Maybe it's because she doesn't really want to know what's wrong with Brooke. Maybe it's because she knows that, somehow, something has happened to make everyone and their dog take Brooke's side, and she's jealous. Maybe it's because Lucas doesn't look at her anymore, and she hates Brooke for it. She's not quite sure.

Before she can make a final decision, however, the door swings open.

Haley stands before her, one hand lying protectively over her swelling abdomen.

Peyton is momentarily distracted.

"Wow, it's really happening," she says with a smile, staring at Haley's stomach in awe.

"Yep," says Haley curtly. "How may I help you?"

"I just wondered if maybe..."

"For the seventeenth time, Brooke does not want to see you. Why do you keep coming?"

"Oh, you never know," Peyton tries to joke, "maybe the seventeenth time's the charm?"

Haley does not look amused.

"Look, I know she's seeing Lucas," says Peyton with a sigh. "It's not fair that she'll see him, but she won't see me."

Haley opens her mouth to speak, but is interrupted by another voice coming from the interior of the apartment.

"Sorry, P. Sawyer, but he has a lot more going for him than you do. I mean, when I see both of you in your bathing suits... there's really no comparison."

As soon as Peyton sees the scarf tied around Brooke's head, and the way that she's leaning a bit on Haley, she knows.

As soon as she knows, her eyes fill with tears.

As soon as her eyes fill with tears, Brooke straightens.

"No, no, no," she says emphatically, making shooing gestures towards Peyton. "You have to leave. Now. This is exactly what I knew would happen. You know, you're really not as tough as you seem. Do you cry like this at your death-emo concerts?"

"Are you dying?" Peyton asks bluntly.

"In a word, yes," sighs Brooke.

Haley opens her mouth to protest, but is cut off once again.

"Tutorgirl, you know I love you like a mother," Brooke says, turning to her, "but I think I need a little private time with camper-kill-yourself here. Do you mind?"

"I understand," she says, squeezing Brooke's arm very gently. "I'll be inside."

Peyton doesn't miss the way that the light touch makes Brooke wince, but Haley appears to. She's suddenly struck with the flagrant, stinging unfairness of the situation. She should be the one that Brooke is depending on through this, not Haley. She's the one who has been with Brooke through everything. Haley's never dragged Brooke's limp body out of the bed of some guy about to take advantage of her. Haley didn't stay up crying with Brooke the night that she lost her first tooth and the Tooth Fairy forgot to come. Haley...

"You know, green is definitely your color, my dearest bff," Brooke breaks into her thoughts. She painfully and slowly sits down on the step of the porch.

Peyton joins her.

"How do you always know exactly what I'm thinking?" she asks, staring out at nothing in particular.

"I don't," Brooke replies. "I still have no idea what thought process led you to the belief that it was okay to try to steal my boyfriend."

Peyton sighs.

"Brooke, don't you think that there are bigger things to talk about considering?"

"No," says Brooke stubbornly.

"Brooke..."

"Listen, Pey," says Brooke, and her voice is softer now, and sounds tired. "I know you're probably itching to discuss the when, where, and how of my death so that you can start making plans for 'Brooke's Dead, Pucas Reigns' 2007, but you cannot even begin to comprehend how completely and utterly over that topic I am."

"Why him?" Peyton asks. "Why him, and not me?"

"I didn't love him as much," Brooke answers plainly, "so it didn't hurt as bad when he let me down."

Peyton is quiet for a long moment, and then she reaches over and puts her arm around Brooke's thin shoulders.

Brooke leans her head against Peyton's.

"So, do you still think people that are meant to be will always find their way in the end?" Peyton asks.

"I'm not putting my money on it yet," says Brooke, "but I'll find out soon enough."

Peyton is the only one so far who doesn't recoil when she says things like that.

"You know, I'm not mad anymore," Brooke says, "at you, or Lucas, or anyone. I want to be, but I just can't. I kind of hate myself for being so pathetic, if you want to know the truth, but I'm tired of fighting."

They sit silently for a moment.

"Do you want to go see a movie or something?" asks Peyton.

Brooke looks at her, and suddenly remembers why she had loved Peyton so much to begin with.

"Yeah," she says, watching Peyton stand with a slight smile, and then holding out her hands to be helped to her feet. "Yeah, that would be really nice."

"So you haven't been to school in awhile," observes Peyton as they make slow progress towards her car. "I bet you're dying to be caught up on all the gossip."

"Oh, you know it," Brooke tries for her old, fun voice.

"Well, Teresa showed up for school last week in one of those dresses that she bought from your yard sale last year looking all kinds of obese. It was truly disgusting. Then, you know that weird kid that sits behind us in Chemistry? The one who is always like trying to lean forward and smell my hair? Yeah, well, it turns out..."

And Brooke lets herself get carried away in the pleasure of the moment. She feels, for the first time in weeks, young, and like maybe she isn't trapped in some strange, parallel universe where big girls cry and boys can't make eye contact after all.

* * *

In retrospect, Brooke thinks, maybe her happiness at being on speaking terms with everyone again wasn't reason enough to insist on having a 'friendship regained' party.

From the looks being exchanged between Nathan and Lucas, Peyton and Haley, Peyton and Lucas, and Lucas and Haley, Brooke is starting to get the hint that perhaps not everyone is completely onboard with the forgiveness train that she appears to be not only riding, but also conducting.

"Well," she says after a moment, "Haley and I made cake."

"Great," says Nathan, clapping his hands together and standing. Peyton similarly jumps to her feet and smiles.

"I love cake," chimes in Lucas.

Maybe this was going to work after all.

"You're a man of many loves," Nathan agrees with a mockingly pleasant tone. "Who knows? Maybe this time you'll actually get away with having your cake and eating it too."

Maybe not.


	7. Messes of Men

The only sound since the serving of the cake has been the clash of forks on china. The air of the room is taut with tension. Nathan and Haley have been eating silently, while Peyton divides her time between staring at her plate and casting anxious looks toward Lucas. Lucas has been attempting relentlessly to make eye contact with Brooke, which she definitely realizes, and which is the reason that she has been trying to appear intent on plucking a loose string on her shirt for the last three minutes.

"This cake is great, babe," says Nathan, breaking the awkward silence.

"Um... hello?" says Brooke, looking up and raising her hand in the air in an effort to get Nathan to acknowledge her. "Who do you think stirred?"

"I mean you too, Brooke," Nathan says with a smirk. "I've decided to just call you both 'babe' so I have double the chance of someone responding when I say things like, 'hey, babe, can you get me a soda?' or 'babe, did you do my laundry?' It's like having two wives."

"You may not know this about me, Nate, but I'm pretty kinky. The whole polygamy thing, though... I don't know; it's pretty backwoods, don't you think?" asks Brooke, cocking one eyebrow at him.

She guesses she probably looks pretty ridiculous, flirting with a married guy and wearing a silky green halter shirt that's baggy in all the wrong places. She isn't sure why she let Haley talk her into dressing up for this thing, because God knows she doesn't have the body for it anymore, but she had somehow allowed herself to get swept up in the moment. For a brief time, she had felt like things were back to normal. All she had to do was squint a little, and she could pretend that Haley was Peyton, and she was still beautiful, and they were getting ready to go to an awesome party at Duke. She had been able to feel the way she used to feel before she knew people who resided in the lower part of the income bracket, and before she had begun wondering about things like the status of her eternal soul.

(About that… yeah, she's pretty much decided she's going to hell. If flirting and cheating her way through school didn't close the deal, then she's pretty sure that whole incident with that fat girl in seventh grade would clinch things up.)

But anyway, now that she's looking back on it, things weren't really all that great pre-Laley anyway. At least now she knows who her real friends are, and who she can trust. She no longer lives in a deluded dream world where Peyton is an angel and she's going to be seventeen forever.

"Sorry, Brooke, but I think the kinky cat has left the bag," says Nathan.

"And perhaps the continent?" chimes in Haley with a grin. Then she turns to Nathan and slaps him hard on the knee.

"What was that for?" he asks, clutching his knee in mock agony.

"For degrading the role of the woman, and for flirting with my best friend," she announces, grabbing his nearly empty plate out of his hands.

Brooke looks sharply over at Lucas, meeting his eyes just in time to see that Haley's comment stung a little. A little part of her cheers at this. She's won.

"So," asks Brooke, feeling newly optimistic about the little gathering. "What does everybody want to do now?"

"Brooke," asks Lucas, standing up and brushing his hands on his jeans, "do you think we could talk in private?"

She knew this was coming. He's been trying to get her alone ever since that fateful day last week when she had lost control and cried on his shoulder.

She thinks that if she could have a one wish, she might go back and erase that moment of complete relenting, but she can't. Plus, who is she trying to kid? If she had one wish, it would be to own her own mall!

"Um..." she stalls, trying desperately to think of an excuse. "Um... well, I... Don't you think it would be rude to leave such a small party? If we leave, they won't have enough for Scattegories!"

She grabs the box off the coffee table and holds it up, smiling brightly.

"I know, I know, it seems kind of lame, but I can't really drink anymore without vomiting, so board games it is. Who wants to be on my team?"

"Um... me?" says Peyton.

Haley snorts.

"Great!" cheers Brooke, attempting to blow over Haley's reaction. She sits down on the couch and pats the spot next to her. "P. Sawyer, come on down!"

No such luck.

"Do you have a problem, Haley?" asks Peyton, turning to face the girl.

"Gee, what would make you think that?" asks Haley.

"If you want to say something, just say it," says Peyton.

"Okay," says Haley. "I will. I just think that, considering everything, the irony of you joining 'team Brooke' is pretty poetic. I just want to know, are you ever a good friend to people who aren't terminally ill, or is that like some special qualification I missed when I board the Peyton Sawyer-drama train? 'All aboard, but only if you're dying!'"

Brooke feels a small twinge. Haley's never admitted that her cancer was likely to end in death before. It makes her feel relieved, but also, a little more resigned to her fate.

"Well, it's really none of your business," says Peyton, "so just stay out of it."

"Don't talk to her like that," says Nathan. "I've never had a problem with you, Peyton, but I'm not going to let you come into my home and insult my wife."

"Oh, that's nice," says Lucas, joining the mix. "You treat me like a freaking pariah for what I supposedly did to Brooke, but you have no problem with Peyton? Newsflash, Nate: it takes two to tango!"

"Lucas!" Peyton squeals, turning briefly from her argument with Haley to look at him in shock.

"Sorry, Peyt," he says, looking at her woefully.

"Okay, ew," says Brooke with a sigh, standing up and raising her voice. "Look, we're all almost adults here. Let's just talk this out."

No one seems to listen to her. In fact, they all appear to be trying to drown each other out because things just keep getting louder and louder. Brooke can only make out snippets of what each person is saying.

"Did you seriously just call me a trollop? What are you, eighty?"

"No, you're the dick!"

"I'd rather be old than a conniving slut!"

"Yeah, well, at least I'm capable of thinking with something other than mine!"

Suddenly, Brooke knows how to stop things.

She opens the game box and grabs a card at random.

"The letter is 'R' and the category is 'types of flowers'" she calls as loud as she can.

"Rhododendron!"

"I knew you could hear me," she says triumphantly. "Now make everyone stop!"

"Okay, okay," sighs Haley, glowering at Peyton. "Nathan, cool it."

Nathan stops shouting, as does Lucas, but both still look about to pounce.

"Look, as much as I appreciate the fact that everyone's fighting over me," begins Brooke.

"It's not about you!" growls Nathan, eyeing Lucas angrily. "It's about him and his freaking…"

"Okay, fine," cuts in Brooke, looking a bit pouty. "It's not about me. I hope you all appreciate how hard it is for me admit that, but I will if it will make you stop. Hell, I'll even say that it's all about Peyton if you promise to start getting along!"

"Brooke, I thought…" begins Peyton.

"Let me guess… you thought that because I said I wasn't mad anymore, and because we spent one glorious afternoon together, that we were bff again?" says Brooke sarcastically, turning to look at Peyton.

Peyton nods slowly, and Brooke's face softens a bit.

"I meant what I said," she says, and her tone is kind. "But Peyton… things have changed, and they can't just go back. I have Haley now and…"

"So that's just it?" Peyton cuts in, sounding a bit hysterical. "We spend ten years of our lives as best friends, going through everything together, and then I do one thing wrong, and that's just it? You can't just replace me so easily, and leave me with no one, Brooke! That's not the way things work. You don't get to just go, and leave me here with no one!"

The emotions of the evening seem to have overwhelmed Peyton, and tears spill over.

"You think I'm the one who replaced you?" Brooke cries, looking incredulous. "You're the one, Peyton! You asked me if I was really willing to throw our relationship away over a boy, but you did it first! If you really couldn't stand my being with Lucas, you should have told me that two years ago, before I fell in love with him! I wouldn't have done it. You know I wouldn't have. But no, you let me go on thinking that you were fine with it, that my happiness was actually important to you!"

"It is, Brooke," tries Peyton, through her tears.

"Don't say that to me!" Brooke practically screams. She's crying now too. "If you cared, you wouldn't have stolen my boyfriend. You knew how I felt about him. You knew how insecure I was about you two. You knew that I would end up breaking up with him because of what you told me, and you did it anyway, because that was what you wanted!"

"Fine!" screams Peyton. "Fine, I did something selfish! Fine, I fucked up again! But, Brooke, if I would have known about you…"

"What?" cries Brooke, "You would have waited until my wake to put the moves on my boyfriend? Thanks. That's so considerate of you!"

"I never put the moves on him, Brooke!" Peyton pleads. "I never did. You have to believe me. I have been waiting to see what would happen between you before I said anything."

"Well, let me assure you," spits Brooke, looking over at Lucas. He's been observing their exchange with stunned eyes. Haley and Nathan appear to have snuck off to their bedroom without Brooke's noticing. "Nothing is going to happen, so why don't you just tell him right now? Just tell him how you really feel."

"No," whispers Peyton.

"What is going on?" asks Lucas, speaking for the first time in awhile.

"Fine, obviously I'm going to have to be the one to do this," says Brooke, wiping her tearstained face roughly with her hands. "Lucas, Peyton loves you. Peyton, Lucas loves you. Now, why don't you both just prance on off together? Please, try not to trample my weakened body on your way."

With these words, she stands and scurries as quickly as possible into Nathan and Haley's bedroom, where she finds them both lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling.

"Well," she says, falling down between them, "I think I may have just sent them into each others arms, but at least they're out of my hair for awhile, right?"

Haley reaches over and slides her arm around Brooke, pulling Brooke over and allowing Brooke to press her face into her shoulder.

"I'm kind of sick of good deeds, though, you know?" asks Brooke, her voice muffled with tears and with Haley's skin.

"I know," says Haley.


	8. A

Special Note: I just wanted to thank everyone so much for their reviews! You guys have been so cool. Also, I've hidden some super secret song lyrics in this chapter. Anyone who can tell me what they are and the name of the band/song is the grand prize winner!

* * *

After her cell phone rings for the seventh time, Brooke finally tears her attention away from 'Real World' reruns. She snaps it open without looking.

"Hello?"

"Do you want to know what he said?"

Of course she wants to know what he said! She's been dying, no pun intended, to know for the past five days. Ever since she, Nathan, and Haley had heard the door of the apartment slam shut that fateful night, she hasn't been able to think about much else than what exactly might have gone on between the two. She can't think of anything she wants to know more in the world!

"Yeah, sure," she says nonchalantly. She inspects her fingernails casually for a moment before realizing that since this conversation is not actually taking place face to face, she doesn't have to bother with looking disinterested. "I mean, y'know, if you want to tell me."

She clutches the phone with both hands.

"He said that he loves me too, but only as a friend, and that he needs to focus on you right now because you need him."

"This is what he calls focusing on me? He hasn't called me all week!"

Peyton is silent.

"But, uh, I'm sorry, Peyton," Brooke can hardly believe these words are escaping her lips. "It's a tough break, my getting cancer and all. I mean, how can you be expected to compete with that?"

"I don't want to compete with you anymore, Brooke" says Peyton, and she sounds tired.

"That's so classic Lucas, though, isn't it?" Brooke ignores Peyton's last remark as she settles back into the couch. Brooke has a sixth sense about these kinds of things. She can smell a good gossip session from a mile away.

"It is," agrees Peyton. "I mean, seriously, what is his issue?"

"I know," exclaims Brooke. "If you're not a damsel in distress, you're out of luck."

"It's like he's only interested if you're going through something major," says Peyton.

"It's kind of ironic, actually," says Brooke. "The whole time we were dating, I secretly wished for something to happen that would make him pay attention to me."

"What, like getting shot?" challenges Peyton.

"What? No!" says Brooke, her face contorting. "You know how I get about pain. I did, however, consider trying to break my own toe."

"You did not," says Peyton, a small chuckle in her voice.

"I did!" insists Brooke. "Remember when Teresa broke hers during cheer practice, and she said it didn't even hurt, but she got all this attention anyway? That's where I got the idea. I had it all planned out. I was going to purposefully drop something on the littlest one, because I figured, 'what do I need it for?' I had this image of myself lying in a hospital bed while Lucas waited on me hand and foot."

"So why didn't you?" laughs Peyton.

"Because," says Brooke, and her tone is darker, "I knew that it wouldn't matter. I mean, let's be real, Peyton. We can joke around all we want about Lucas having a savior complex, but it doesn't change the fact that you let him save you."

"Is that really what you're angry about? the fact that I let him save me?"

"Yes!" says Brooke emphatically, and it feels so good to say it that she can't stop her flow of words. "Yes, Peyton, that's why. It's not fair that everything happens to you, and that you're always the one who needs saving. I don't care if Lucas was obsessed with you or not, you were my friend first, and you shouldn't have let him leave me. You should have found your own boyfriend instead of taking mine. You were supposed to care about me more!"

"Brooke, can't we just... I mean, I just want to..."

"Peyton, just because we're talking sometimes, it doesn't fix things. I mean..."

"Well, what will fix things, Brooke?" Peyton cuts her off, sounding desperate. "I want you to tell me. Is there any way for you to ever forgive me for this? Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

Brooke is silent for a long moment.

"Answer this question," she says finally, "and be honest. Ever since he told you, you know, that it's me now... seeing me at school... hearing my name, and thinking about me... has it been hard? And not because you're upset about my illness, or because of our broken friendship, but because you're jealous. Does it hurt to look at me because of him?"

"Yes," says Peyton finally, and her voice is softer like before Nathan and Haley's wedding.

"Okay," breathes Brooke. "Okay. I think I can forgive you now."

"Why?" asks Peyton.

"Because now you know what it's like to be me," says Brooke, and her voice is confident, "and I don't think you'll do it again."

* * *

"So I finally forgave Peyton," she says.

"I knew you would," he says with a smile.

"How?" she asks, looking a bit put out. She's looking a little stronger, Lucas notices, and he wonders if maybe there's hope after all.

"How's your chemo going?" he asks, struggling for a casual manner.

"Oh, you know, it's not," she says.

"What?"

"Calm down, its okay," she says. "I've finished my first four week course, and now we're waiting."

"Waiting on what?" he asks blankly. He isn't going to pretend to know how these things work, but he's begun equating chemotherapy with Brooke's life, so the fact that she's not receiving it alarms him greatly.

"Waiting on the world to change," she says, scowling at him. He can tell she's still a little mad at him for stealing her thunder on the Peyton news. "What do you think? We're waiting to find out if it's working."

"So..." he tries, but she cuts him off.

"Anyway, I want to do something," she says, turning to face him with an old smile he hasn't seen in weeks.

"What?" he asks, looking around the apartment. Honestly, he's shocked that she wants to do anything with him. He had come over to the apartment on the pretense of playing basketball with Nathan, which, now that he thinks about it, is a pretty weak excuse since it's not like Nathan's really talking to him now. Ever since last Saturday night, he's been avoiding his brother and his brother's household like the plague. He's wanted to talk to Brooke, obviously, and tell her about what he told Peyton, but, so far, the occasion has not presented itself. When he had seen her in school yesterday for the first time in forever, it had been all he could do not to grab her and swing her around, he had been so elated. Then Nathan and Haley had flanked her, though, and he had hung back.

"Something super fun!" she says, also looking around the apartment.

"Um..." He's racking his brain for something to do. He wants so badly to come up with a great idea; one that will make Brooke smile at him, instead of through him.

"I have an idea," she finally says, her eyes narrowing on him.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Well, it's something that we haven't done in a long time," she says. She's moved from her previous position of lying on her stomach on the floor to being on all fours. She looks blatantly predatory.

"Uh," Lucas stutters, scooting away from her. "I don't think that it's probably a very good idea."

"Look, Lucas," she sighs. "If it's because of how I look..." She brushes her hand nervously across her silk scarf.

"No, I think you're beautiful," he says quickly. He means it.

"Then, well?" she asks impatiently.

"Well, didn't you want to talk about, you know?" he tries.

"Peyton?" she asks.

"Yeah," he nods, "Peyton."

"Well, I sort of feel like maybe we've talked about Peyton enough," she says. "I mean, have we ever even been able to just be together without Peyton being in the room?"

"You're completely right," he agrees, his tone becoming rushed. "Let's not talk about Peyton. Let's talk about this… us, because…"

"If you even try to tell me that you love me and that you want a meaningful relationship with me, I'll castrate you," she warns.

He shuts his mouth.

"Let's just face the facts," she says. "Fact: we connect well physically. Fact: we're never going to have a 'meaningful relationship'. We tried, and we failed. Fact: I haven't gotten laid in over two months, and I'm pretty sure that if you won't do the job, I can find someone else more than willing. So what will it be?"

She knows what it will be. She knows before he nods, and before he pulls off his shirt, and even before his lips touch her collar bone. She knows that no matter what happens, it'll be theirs, and only theirs, and always theirs. And this is what she says to get through it.

"If I don't let myself be happy now, then well, if not now, when?"


	9. B

Things haven't been going Brooke's way for awhile now, so she's not all that surprised that this whole cancer thing can now be added to the list. She doesn't even flinch, just sits there as the doctor carefully spells out the end of world.

"You see, the cancer had already spread too far by the time we started chemotherapy," he's explaining. He doesn't really look very professional, and it bothers her. She thinks that this news might feel a little more real to her if he at least had one of those things you use to listen to people's hearts around his neck. Nope. All he has is a big popsicle stick in his front pocket, and even that looks a little sketchy.

"There really wasn't much hope to begin with, Miss Davis."

She knew that all along, but she'll be damned if it doesn't still hurt a little to hear.

Oops, wait, she already is!

"I'm sorry. Are your parents here? I'd like to talk to them about how we're going to proceed."

"No," she says dully. "You can just tell me."

He shifts uncomfortably.

"Well, I'd really prefer if..."

"Look," she says, "the road to the end is going to be a solo one for me, so there's really no need for me to call my parents so they can pretend to listen to you tell them how important it is for me to be with friends and family at this time and that strawberry jello will soothe my soul in my final moments. I already know that, and I'll be making my own damn jello."

"Alright," he says, finally. "Well, here are your options. We can do another round of chemotherapy. It might prolong your life, but the damage to your body could cause the extension to be quite uncomfortable. Alternatively, we could stop any further treatment, and let your body expire on its own time."

"What's my expiration date?" she cracks a half-smile.

He stares back at her.

"Um... how long do I have if I stop treatment?" she asks, sounding every bit her age.

"Well..." he begins.

Later, as she's exiting the building, she tells herself that she won't cry until she's in her car. Strangely enough, though, the tears don't appear to be coming. She's sick of crying over herself, she realizes. She wishes for parents at that moment more than she ever has before. She wants someone to tuck her in and put a cool hand on her forehead. She wants someone over the age of eighteen to baby her, and to understand she really doesn't have a dark sense of humor at all. There's nothing funny about dying, especially when it's her.

* * *

"So that's just it?" Haley asks, looking at Brooke intently.

"That's it," says Brooke quietly.

"How long?" she asks.

"Four to six weeks," Brooke answers. "Maybe less, maybe more. They aren't sure."

"I just thought..." says Haley, and her voice is shaky with tears. "I thought that it wouldn't happen to us, you know?"

"I know," says Brooke, reaching across the space separating them and putting her hands on Haley's knees.

"I thought," she's finding it difficult to get the words out now. "I thought..."

She leans forward, her forehead touching Brooke's.

Brooke leans into the contact, and Haley puts her hands over Brooke's, clutching them tightly.

"Let's just stay like this for a little while, can we?" Brooke sniffles.

Haley lets out a gasping sob, and then clenches her jaw.

"Yeah," she nods slowly. "Yeah, let's do that."

* * *

"That's just it?" asks Peyton.

"Yes," replies Brooke.

"When… um… when?"

"Geez, um, like a month," says Brooke, looking at her hands.

"Well, what do you want to do first?" asks Peyton after a beat, and she knows her eyes are too bright.

"What?" asks Brooke.

"Just think about all the stuff we said we were going to do," she says, falling back onto the bed. Brooke slowly joins her. "Remember? We were going to get matching tattoos."

Brooke giggles slightly, but the sound catches in her throat.

"Don't you remember what they were going to be?" she asks, rolling onto her side to look at her friend.

Brooke giggles again, and it sounds a little stronger.

"Hearts," continues Peyton, "on our asses. Yours was going to be pink, and have…"

"Nick!" Brooke cuts her off. "Mine was going to be pink, with Nick written in the middle, and yours was going to be red, with A.J."

"And then, once we were old enough to drive, because, I mean, obviously BSB was going to last forever, we were going to follow them around on tour, remember?"

"And eventually, we were going to show them the tattoos, and win their hearts," Brooke finishes with a laugh. "I can see us now; soaking up the sun at our Malibu mansions while our matching sets of twins play together in the pool."

"We were going to go to the Mall of America too," Peyton prompts.

"Oh yeah!" Brooke exclaims, "on my birthday. You were going to steal me something real big, and I…"

Peyton swallow as Brooke speaks, wondering if the other girl has any idea how hard it is right now for her to hold herself together. Then she squares her jaw. She'll have plenty of time for crying for herself later. For now, she's going to try this new thing called not being selfish.

* * *

"That's it?" He looks dumbstruck.

"I know," she says in a small voice.

A hand grasps her shoulder, a little too hard, and his voice is gruff.

"I'll be there," he says, and his look tells her he means it. "The whole time. You won't have to be alone."

"My parents..." she starts, but can't continue.

"Screw them," he says, drawing her close and resting his chin on the top of her head. "Where has counting on parents every gotten any of us?"

She nods silently against his chest.

"Haley and me are your family, Brooke," he says. "We'll be there."

"You're a good guy, Nate," Brooke says after a moment. "You'll make a good dad."

Her eyes close briefly.

"You would have made a good mom, too," he says, chucking her gently under the chin. "I know it."

"Thanks," she says.

_Would have._

She would have been a lot of things.

"Thanks," she repeats, and she means it more this time. "You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

* * *

"That's not it," he says, and she winces, because she knew that this was going to be hard, and he's proving her right.

"It is," she says, putting her hands over his.

"No," he says, throwing her hands off him, and standing up. "No, that's not it."

"Lucas," she tries.

"Just stop," he says, pacing around the room. "Look, I mean, this isn't it, because we just got back together, and..."

"We did not," she says quietly.

"We did too!" he insists, momentarily distracted.

"We had sex, Luke," she replies. "We had pretty bad sex eight days ago, and we didn't talk after, and we haven't talked since."

"Because you won't take my calls!" his voice is cracking, and the last thing she needs is for him to start crying, so she decides to take a new approach.

"Okay, baby," she says, walking over to him and holding his hands. "I'm sorry. I know this is hard."

"I just don't want you to go, okay?" he asks, gripping her hands tightly.

"I know," she says.

"I don't want you to leave me all alone." He's lifted his hands, and he's clutching her face, and it hurts.

"You won't be alone," she tries. "You'll still have your mom, and Haley, and Nate, and... Peyton."

That one still tastes a little bitter.

"I'm still not ready to lose you," he says after a moment. The words tear at her in a way that no disease can.

"I'm not lost yet," she says, attempting a smile. It falls short.

He releases her face and moves his hands to her shoulders, sliding them slowly down her back, feeling bone where there should be flesh.

* * *

He knows this body. He knows the curves, and the dips, and the little hidden insecurities, and the mind that lies inside. He continues to move his hands down her frame, pressing gently with his fingers.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"I want to remember how you feel," he says, tears making slow paths down his cheeks. His hands are making their way down her arms; his fingers are tracing hers.

So she stands there, and allows him to touch her in a way that she has never allowed anyone to before, because he's different, and because she loves him.


	10. Dying Is Strange And Hard

A/N: This has been a long time coming

* * *

So when she goes, she just goes, and there isn't anything that anyone can do about it. 

Lucas likes to think it was a nice death, as far as deaths go. Her breathing had been even and unlabored, and her fingers had curled slightly around his. There had been no epic conversation, no parting vows of eternal love or remembrance. She'd made sure of that.

* * *

Lucas doesn't really have much experience with this kind of thing outside of that time Brooke forced him to watch 'Sweet November' with her, so he really isn't sure what to say when the time comes. 

He knows he loves her though, so he tells her so.

"I know," she smiles with colorless lips. "I want to tell you that I forgive you."

"I know," he says.

Pause.

"Haley's a mess."

"She'll be okay. She'll have Nathan, and the baby, and all that to worry about. She'll stop thinking about it after awhile."

"I won't."

"You will," she says. "So will Peyton, and everyone else. As much as I wish I could be here for the rest of your life, I can't, and I don't want you to make me."

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"I mean," she says softly, "I don't want you to carry me around with you forever, Luke. It's not fair to anyone. I don't want you to make me hold you back."

"I have to," he says shakily, and after a pause. "I can't just forget about you."

"Then don't," she says, a little smile on her lips. "Just don't remember me as your long lost soul mate that you can't live without. Remember me as that girl you had fun with in high school for awhile."

"You're more than that, and you know it," he winces.

"Yeah," she sighs, "I know."

She smiles.

He smiles back, cracked.

She turns her head to side, and sighs softly.

* * *

At the graveside, Peyton's hand finds his, but he shrugs her off. Maybe someday, but not today... not while he's standing by this freshly turned mound of earth. Her watery eyes find his, and she smiles slightly. He's glad she understands. 

He reckons the ceremony goes about as well as can be expected. A lot of people come, but he doesn't recognize any of their faces. Maybe it's because none of them are the one he wants to see.

Peyton is hysterical, and has to be led from the sanctuary by her father. Lucas tries to believe that it's grief, and not guilt, causing her emotional outburst. He eventually decides maybe it's a little bit of both, and that it's okay. God knows he feels the same way.

Haley and Nathan keep to the background throughout the proceedings, taking turns holding their baby boy. Haley cries in her own, quiet way, but Nathan remains stoic. His tightly clenched jaw tells another story, though, and when Haley rubs his back, he just stares forward.

There seems to be a common consensus on the fact that knowing something is coming doesn't make it any less shocking when it actually arrives.

Lucas had meant to say a few words, but when his time comes, he finds himself just shaking his head. He generally has a tendency towards verbosity but this time, he just doesn't know what to say.

He purposefully ignores the other speakers, even his own mother's shaky words. What can they say that could possibly make any impact? They can acknowledge the pain, but they'll never share it. His grief is his own: a living, breathing grief that beats right along with his heart.

He tries to remember what Brooke had told him after Keith's funeral, searching his mind for her words with a sort of fanaticism. Already she's fading from his memory. He's guessing it wasn't anything too profound. She wasn't really that kind of girl. Still, it might have helped.

It probably wouldn't have.

He remembers some things. He remembers the taste of green tea, and the fact that he actually did sort of feel better afterwards. He remembers her face after the Sparkle competition, and the way she had tossed her head back. He remembers the feeling of her hair on his face and her body under his fingers the day she had relinquished herself to him for the last time.

He remembers that she was a good person. She was a good person, and she had a good life, and she usually did the right thing. She loved him, and tried to do things to make him happy. What more could he have asked for?

What more could any of them have asked for?

_fin._


End file.
